


Kisses of the Morning

by essexgrl68



Category: Blur
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essexgrl68/pseuds/essexgrl68
Summary: Music:    Graham Coxon, “Bittersweet Bundle of Misery”  Blur, “Come Together” “I’m Just a Killer for Your Love”   The Stones, “Moonlight Mile”   Rufus Wainwright, “Gay Messiah”   The Beatles cover of “Anna”, “I’ll Follow the Sun” “It’s Only Love” & “Norwegian Wood”  Pete Townshend, “Rough Boys”As always, the boys are not mine, only my inspiration.  Morning drabbles of a sort because I’m obsessed with them waking up together.  This is where my mind was:  John Lennon and Paul McCartney in kimono style robes.  Tiptree marmalade.  Brian Epstein and his tortured desires. Jammy dodgers.  Our darlings in Japan in 1997 during the goofy interview where Damon blushes when talking about his mum.  Early morning tattoo appointment (which I admit I’ve taken liberties with the timing of).  The mirror in the “kiss” vid.Forster ref:  Maurice, p 228:  “Maurice blew out his cheeks, and began picking the flowerets off a long stalk…’I have shared with Alec,’ he said after deep thought.  ‘Shared what?’  ‘All I have. Which includes my body.’”This is porn/fluff?  Fluff/Porn?  And a birthday gift for someone who is a huge inspiration to me.   Much love to you, A.





	Kisses of the Morning

Madrid, Spain, June 1994 Tough boys, come over here, I wanna bite and kiss you

“They did.” 

“Did not. Pete Shotton said so.” Graham was indignant, knowing he was the Beatles expert. 

Damon guffawed. “Lennon edited. There’s no way he spent all that time with Eppy and they didn’t fuck. There was more than a hand job. And it was just that once, and poor Brian lived on it for the next four years.” Graham winced, surprised that Damon knew, or even imagined, that much detail about ‘his’ band. “Ha! You won’t admit it but you know I’m right. He loved his rough boy and being with him but not having him again killed him.” 

Being in Spain had brought up the story of Brian and John’s holiday in Barcelona, when the two men had admired the boys in the cafes and taken in the bull fighting. Blur were in Madrid and the hotel was gorgeous and so was the food, room service bringing a lavish tray to their sun filled room. Fresh fruit and fresh bread and hot coffee, jams and marmalade, cheese and soft boiled eggs; brunch on the balcony. It was early but the summer sun was already blazing down on the two boys. Damon was soaking up the heat in just his boxers, the rays seeming to relish touching his caramel skin and golden hair. Graham had his slender body folded into the chair, clad in boxers and slightly soiled t-shirt. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and huffed at his friend who was grinning at him across the table, filling his mouth with another slice of bread and slurping at his coffee cup. 

“Ugh Damon, you’re romanticizing. It was 1963. Neither of them would have had enough guts to take it further.” Damon responded with his mouth full, crumbs flying. “ Are you joking? Brian picked up boys in the dockyards. And John MUST have been curious. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away’! I rest my case. It HAD to be about Brian. A hidden message about unrequited homoerotic love.” He stuck his tongue out at Graham, who scowled at him, perturbed. “Since when are you the Beatles expert? And god, look at the mess you’re making.” Damon giggled. “You’re put out that I know this much. You’re adorable when you’re mad.” 

Colchester 1984 Isn’t it good? 

Graham’s room was tiny, tidy, and dim in the November twilight. He’d shut the door so that the music could be turned up just enough for their enjoyment but not quite enough to disturb the rest of the household. He’d been astonished at Damon’s lack of knowledge in this department; work needed to be done. Rubber Soul, his beloved, had just started revolving on the turntable and he’d shushed the blond boy who was sitting, arms around knees, a few feet away from him on the floor. Damon rocked back and forth slightly, listening intently. Graham watched him intently, from his perch on his bed. He’d been anxious to impress the older boy but strangely now felt confident, more in the Beatles than himself, and was able to give himself over to studying Damon’s expressions as the music poured forth. Damon’s face gave everything away and it was...so…. Graham tried AGAIN to stop the thoughts that kept popping into his head, unbidden, at the least provocation...beautiful. 

“Play that one again.” Damon spoke seriously. Graham stood and carefully lifted the stylus, repositioned the needle delicately, and Norwegian Wood’s strident sitar twanged out. 

“Can I talk?” Damon was not teasing, he seemed to understand the import of this lesson, and Graham blushed slightly and giggled. “Yes, don’t be silly.” “It’s making a movie in my mind. I can see the room - I can’t see the girl, though? - I can see the fire, and the tub! His voice sounds almost like he doesn’t care - but he cared enough to write a song about it...I think I get it. Yeah, I get it. You’re right, Gra. They’re bloody important.” Damon unfurled his arms and legs and stood up to join Graham on the bed. “You Won’t See Me” began. Graham shuffled up to the head of the bed and leaned back against the pillows, trying to not be too obvious in his attempts to get a bit of space between himself and the warm golden temptation who was too near now. Damon, oblivious, crawled up beside him, grinning, and put his arms behind his head, closing his eyes to enjoy the music. 

Graham shifted away, tried to keep his hands from batting at his face and head, tried to lose himself in the music as well. After a few minutes he thought Damon had fallen asleep but then the blue eyes were open and gazing at him. Damon sat up straighter and took the hand that was rubbing at the back of Graham’s head. He was smiling and his eyes seemed to glow with happiness. “Thank you, Graham.” “I, I….” stuttering, “s’alright..” Damon leaned forward before Graham could react and quickly, firmly, kissed the plump half open lips, and just as quickly drew back, still smiling. “Oh!” Graham blushed hotly - but didn’t move - and Damon, more slowly this time, let his lips brush the warm cheek and pause longer on Graham’s mouth, tongue daring to just taste the swell of the bottom lip, until he heard Graham gasp slightly. He drew back again and gazed into the huge, slightly frightened, slightly glazed dark eyes. “OK?” Graham got his breath back, considered for a moment. “Yes.” “Good.” The blond boy laid back again, not letting go of Graham’s hand. This was enough. There was plenty of time and plenty of music to explore. 

Madrid

Graham was beautiful, his cheeks pink from the sun and his thick hair shining. Damon fluttered his lashes at the dark-haired boy, teasing a hint of a smile from Graham. “And I AM an expert on homoerotic love.” He pursed his lips and blew a kiss across the table. Graham feigned shock, his eyes widening, and finally grinning back. “You’re insufferable. And a slob.” Graham indicated the crumbs and sticky drops of marmalade splattered on the glass table, his fingers inadvertently dragging through a blob of the sweetness, making him grimace and shake his hand in the air. 

Damon wasn’t one to let such an opportunity flash by. He grabbed Graham’s hand and brought it to his mouth, slowly drawing one, then two long fingers inside, teasing with his tongue and then sucking at the tips, up to the knuckles, letting his eyes do the rest of the seducing as he watched Graham bite his lip and blush. He released Graham’s hand and leaned forward, smiling. “Ummm, nice. More, please.” Graham obediently dipped his fingers into the marmalade jar, offering his slender hand to the impish beauty opposite him. “Lovely, thank you, Grem.” A gentle kiss to the palm first, then the tip of Damon’s tongue across his fingers again, pulling them inside the wet warm mouth. Graham was softly groaning now. Damon’s eyes flicked down to appreciate the sight of Graham’s tented boxers, his cock twitching with excitement. “Here, you taste, too.” He caught Graham’s mouth with his own, sharing the sugary treat on his tongue. He drew him up as they kissed, warm hand sliding under Graham’s shirt to caress his stomach, then slipping lower to palm Graham’s erection. “Back to bed?” 

 

Koln, Germany, June 1993   
Just another mad mad day on the road, I am just living to be lying by your side

Graham uncurled himself and turned over carefully, the too-soft bed threatening to roll him to the centre and into the boy sprawled in sleep next to him, arms splayed above his head and his pink lips slightly open, slightly snoring still. Graham reached for his glasses. He wanted to be a voyeur for a few minutes, to add to the cache of beauty in his head. He propped his dark head on his hand and sighed. Damon stretched himself and yawned, extending his arms and treating Graham to the ripple of muscles down his torso, his eyes flickering open. “Darling. Are you watching me?” Graham giggled and a shiver of pleasure ran through him at the rumble of that deep voice. “Always.” Damon reached for him and drew him closer. ‘Come here. Are you cold? You feel cold. Warm yourself on me.” Coltish limbs tangled as they kissed gently, Damon rubbing his hand through Graham’s thick hair, tickling the back of his neck. He glanced at the mirror across the room and chuckled softly. “Mmmmm I shouldn’t think of it, we don’t have time right now.” He winked at Graham. Graham shook his head, perplexed. “Why not?” Damon grinned. “Cuz I’m hungry. I have to have a piss. And I want us to go get tattoos. That place we passed on the way from the TV studio yesterday.” Graham sat up, astonished. “What?! It’s not even 9 am. How does your brain work?” Damon rolled out of bed and went to the window, checking the weather, deciding it was favourable. Graham watched him with his habitual intensity as he moved across the room, delighting as always in the conundrums that made up Damon’s beauty as he unabashedly stretched again at the windowsill. The angelic face, the slender body that was surprisingly strong and muscular through his middle, the delicate collarbones and shoulders, the pianist’s fingers, the soccer player’s legs. “I want us to remember this trip, Grem. Not that bloody show yesterday, that fucking stupid audience...just us. Before the show. Last night here.” He blew Graham a kiss. “C’mon, shower. Christ knows we need it.” Graham grinned. “Watcha gonna get, then? Our initials?” he teased. “Nah, me Mum. On a rose. Already decided.” “Old school! Don’t even ask me, I’m not even sure I’m doing this, y’know.” Damon grinned back. “Dare you.”

During the broadcast the day before: “Come Together”.... “Inside my head there’s nothing left, it’s all been taken up by you….” God, I love you so much. Damon sidled up to Graham, ruffled his hair, the rush of affection hitting him like a wave as the blush and enchanted grin spread over Graham’s face. Half an hour later, between songs, in front of the detached and oblivious audience he sauntered over again, took the beloved head in his hands and bent to his ear, kissing and whispering at once. “I can still taste you on my tongue.” Graham gasped, grateful for the guitar covering his swelling cock. 

Before the show, backstage: Alex and Dave were staking out the pre-show bar, trading banter with the crew. Graham sat crouched and curled in on himself in front of a guitar case in the green room, on his knees, fiddling with the head of his guitar. He’s nervous, Damon decided, he’s adorable, how tiny he looks like that. My little boy. He wandered over and stroked the back of Graham’s head, getting an exasperated shake of it in response. “Leave off!” “Gra, everything’s fine, it’s all been checked, what’s up?” Graham scratched at his head, pushed his glasses up. “I hate these televised shows, what bollocks, opening for these oldsters, the crowd won’t care a fig who we are.” He chewed at his fingertips, scowling. Damon stood up and went over to close the door, knowing the others wouldn’t even try it; this ritual of the two friends having time alone pre-show was well known by now. “C’mere.” He drew Graham up so they were standing nose to nose. “Do you want me to go get you a drink? Something to calm you down? Something to perk you up?” He grinned and brushed noses, getting a swat from Graham, half-hearted though, because he couldn’t resist the twinkle in those blue eyes. “Uhhh, nah, I dunno why I get like this. I ought to be getting used to it by now. I don’t like the cameras is all. At least it’s live and not Top of the Pops.” “That’s the spirit, you’ll be fine.” 

Damon had pushed up the yellow jersey’s sleeves and was stroking Graham’s pale arms, soothing and kneading, working down to the slim hands and circling the palms. “My genius, you’ll dazzle them all, you know that.” Graham’s breath caught. Damon knew from long experience what to do to change his mood, and any repetitive movement of those hands on his skin went straight to Graham’s groin. “Dammit.” His hands grabbed for the back of Damon’s head and he rubbed at the close-cut stubble there before thrusting his fingers into the floppy blond hair, pulling the grinning boy to him and into a kiss, biting at the lush bottom lip before his tongue darted along Damon’s teeth. They kissed hungrily, aware of what few minutes they had. Damon’s hands clenched on the taut little bottom, grinding their hips together. “Babe. What do you want?” Graham whimpered, “Just… fuck. Just be quick. Wank me off. Hurry, Damon.” Damon groaned. Graham talking like this, even a bit, was worth everything. He teased for a minute, his fingers tracing and stroking the swollen shape through the fabric of Graham’s pants, then he reached for the zip and drew Graham’s cock out, delighting as always in how velvety and soft the skin was, pumping until he felt him swell and harden even more in his palm. No matter how many hundreds (thousands?) of times he’d given Graham a hand job it still thrilled him so much, the illicit memories of the woods and school bathrooms in Colchester, Graham biting into his own palm, or grunting into Damon’s shoulder until he came, or hiding the moans in kisses. Damon would always love the taste of the inside of Graham’s mouth as he came. Graham whimpered, “Faster... Christ, Damon!” 

Colchester 1985 I get high when I see you go by, my oh my

Graham heard the back garden gate squeak open and pushed aside the lace kitchen curtains to squint into the half light of a late November morning, already knowing whose bicycle was being stashed beside the shed. He rinsed his fingers under the kitchen tap, stooped and drank some cold water in lieu of brushing his teeth, and grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. ‘Bye, Mum. Damon’s here.” Mrs. Coxon shook her head at him. “So early… you spend too much time with that boy.” The door slammed on her last words and Graham hurried through the foggy yard to his friend. Damon was standing on the path, looking upwards. He pointed to the grey blue sky, just beginning to brighten. “Gra, look.” Graham focussed his gaze upwards. A small bird hovered overhead. “Kestrel,” Damon said. “He’s searching for a mouse - or waiting for a sparrow. Early bird…” He grinned at Graham, his eyes sparkling bluer than the sky. Damon took his hand and pulled them behind the shed, pressing Graham to the weathered wood, both hands on his shoulders, his eyes gleaming as he leaned forward to quickly kiss the still wet red lips. 

“Let’s go...there’s time before class...I’ve been up half the night thinking of you, Grammie.” His blue eyes were huge and soft. Graham reached up to touch the messy blond hair. “Alright - have you got the key?” Damon jingled the pocket of his jacket. Mr. Hildreth had succumbed to his persistent nagging and given them a copy of the music hut key so they could practice before and after school. They DID practice but...the coming cold weather had taken away the refuge of the woods behind Damon’s house, the breathless moments huddled next to a tree before school, at the lunch hour, on the way home. They’d pass each other in the hallway and lock eyes, Graham would bite his lip and Damon would swiftly nod...they had no way of knowing then that they were observing time honoured signals. Graham had been at first shocked by the persistence of his lust, of his need for Damon’s nimble fingers on him and for the taste of his friend’s mouth. Sloppy kisses that turned into sloppy hand jobs. Damon just delighted in it. Now that it was prohibitively frigid in the woods, the music hut was a welcome rendezvous - although it was still pretty chilly. They left the light off to prevent anyone spying them; the heater was somewhat unreliable. They could see their breath mingling before their mouths met. Graham thawed his fingers on Damon’s back, under his jersey. Damon’s skin was always warm. Damon joked that he liked the friction supplied by Graham’s corduroy trousers against his own fingers as he ran them over and over the shaft of Graham’s cock, making his friend whine in frustration. “Gets them warmed up to wank you, Grem,” he chuckled. Graham would bury his face in Damon’s neck to stifle his moans and to better listen to the stream of dirty, devilish words Damon would pour into his ear, detailing all the things they’d do to each other when they were older, everything Damon had dreamt up while touching himself the night before. 

In the garden he stepped back to study Graham’s face; the hawk reminding him that he had to mind his own predatory nature. He’d been studiously careful to not rush Graham. This boy was not a trifle, not a random girl to mess about with. This boy was his love. Damon had risked that initial kiss a year prior and then waited, wondering if the aching hunger was shared by his friend. It didn’t take too long. He knew from the big eyes following his movements, the bitten bottom lip. And wonderfully, Damon had captured a souvenir of those precious first moments.

It was a Saturday afternoon just after last Christmas, in Damon’s room. Graham had got used to the unusual decor of various animal skulls, the stuffed fox, the bits of rock and wood, and had come to feel at home in this dusty haven that smelled of Hazel’s cooking. They provided their own soundtrack this afternoon since Graham had brought his guitar along with him. They were trying out how their voices sounded together, how well they could harmonize (if you were eventually going to form a band, this was important). Damon had pressed the record button on an ancient cassette player so they could listen later. 

He was as usual cross-legged on the floor, his friend taking over his bed. Graham strummed as his sweet voice met Damon’s: ‘And now the time has come, and so my love, I must go...and though I lose a friend, in the end you will know, oh, oh, oh…” His fingers faltered as he sought the chord to the chorus. The lyrics had hit too close (oh god don’t let him ever leave me! Graham thought). He glanced down to see Damon gazing at him and the expression on his face stopped him from trying to continue. He set the guitar on the floor. Damon was looking at him the same way he’d been surreptitiously looking at Damon for months. Especially since Damon had softly kissed him in November. They hadn’t talked about that moment, although Graham had thought of little else since. They stared at each other, the room seemed to Graham to fade and then brighten, as bright as Damon’s eyes. He realized he was trembling and his voice was shaking slightly. “Damon.” A call, an invitation, a plea, barely whispered. 

The tape recorder continued to turn, forgotten on the bookshelf beside the bed. Weeks later Damon blessed this fact when he listened and relistened to the hiss and hum, Graham’s soft voice and his answering, their breathing…

Graham reached out and exhaled sharply in relief when he felt his friend’s fingers entwine and clutch his. Damon sat on the bed next to him and Graham reached out with his other hand to trace the contours of the impish face that had so entranced him. “Oh, Graham.” The fingers were being kissed as they passed over Damon’s lips, Damon pressing them to his mouth. Graham whimpered softly as Damon stroked his hair, traced his eyebrows, the round of his ear. “Kiss me.” Oh the bliss of it! Soft lips finally touching, opening. Damon groaned as his tongue learned the flavour of Graham’s mouth. Hands, hands everywhere, grasping, almost pawing, at hair and skin that they’d longed to touch. Graham gasped as the kiss broke and Damon pressed baby kisses to his forehead, cheeks, chin. 

“Lie down.” This from Graham, eliciting a huge grin from the blond boy, a creaking of the bed, shuffling of limbs and clothes. Later Damon would notice the pause, then the sighs from both of them as they nuzzled close and their bodies melted into each other, fitting together perfectly. There was a moment of such comfort and ease that Damon thought: “It feels holy”. Finally touching felt so right, so predestined. They were side by side, noses touching. Graham slid his hand around the back of Damon’s head and brought them together in the second kiss that was already more assured, more hungry, becoming more frantic. Damon could feel their hearts pounding against each other and it took every bit of strength he had to hold back, to not grab at Graham too quickly, to let the younger boy set the pace. He’d never forgive himself if he made a wrong move and scared Graham away. He needn’t have worried. A deep moan escaped him as he felt Graham’s hands move down his back and cup his bottom as Graham ground his hips into his, as Graham rolled them so that he was on top of Damon. 

An electric shock of pleasure shot through him as their cocks touched through their jeans. Graham cried out. “Oh! Oh god, that’s so good…” He buried his head into Damon’s neck, kissing, biting, his hips bucking in excitement at first but then starting a steady, delicious rhythm. It didn’t take long. It couldn’t possibly have, after the months of waiting. Damon never clocked it later, listening to their breathless moans and the protestations of his bed. He knew when he’d come, far before Graham, his back arching, trying to stifle his yell. Graham was delirious. “Damon, Damon, please….” and Damon hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped and reached inside Graham’s pants, grasping and clumsily tugging until Graham’s head went back, eyes fluttering shut, and he clawed Damon’s back as he spilled into his hand. 

There was no grace to it except for the natural beauty of their two young bodies desperate to please each other. It didn’t matter. Grace would come later. Damon kissed the top of Graham’s head. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He cautiously opened his door and slipped down the hall, returning with a towel, handing it to Graham to tidy up while he himself changed into new pants. Graham watched him from the bed, eyes glowing. Damon laid down beside him and they wrapped their arms around each other. Graham nestled his head on Damon’s shoulder and sighed. His fingers reached for and rolled the beads on Damon’s necklace. “When I think of you, when I...” he faltered, blushing. Damon chuckled. “I know, me too, it’s alright.” “I always see these, they’re so much a part of you. I love them.” Damon kissed his head again. “Well then I’ll have to make you one, too.” Five minutes later they were asleep. Seven minutes later the recorder softly clicked off, the tape full. 

Koln

Damon kissed him fiercely, teasing the tip of his cock, slippery now with pre-cum. He raised his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, Graham groaning with the interruption. “Ummmmm, let me….” He licked his hand, grabbed Graham again, fingers sliding easily now, sank to his knees, hand never stopping, and looked up at the gasping, beautiful face above him. Graham’s eyes were almost black with excitement. “Fuck, yes, suck me, Dames.” There, that was it, the moment Damon craved above all else, when he’d succeeded in getting Graham to a state of complete abandon, all his tics and twitches lost in relaxed, total lust. His own eyes were hazy with desire as he watched Graham struggle for breath, the both of them now too caught up in their own world composed of just skin and smell and their soft noises to care if the door flew open and they were interrupted.

Damon pushed the yellow jersey up over Graham’s flat stomach, caressing it briefly with a kiss and licking down the trail of dark hair towards his cock. Still stroking, Damon put his pretty lips around just the head of Graham’s cock and suckled hard, tip of his tongue darting around the glans, not going too deep to save his throat, his hand still working the shaft as his mouth moved in time, his other hand tight on Graham’s hip, holding his thrusts back. “My little slut, I love you, make me cum...Now, Damon!” Damon curled his tongue around the tip of his cock and let Graham watch him expertly catch each spurt of semen, his hand milking every last drop, then tenderly sucking and licking again to make sure Graham was clean. Jammy dodger, he’d called him years ago just after he’d first convinced Graham to let him use his mouth instead of his hand, resulting in Graham erupting in a fit of giggles that was contagious and put off Damon getting his treat - for a few minutes. 

Graham leaned back against the wall, panting and shaking, watching in wonder as Damon tugged down his jeans and grabbed his aching cock. He was still on his knees and Graham was transfixed for some reason by his slender crossed ankles - goddam the boy! Even his ankles were sensual; Graham had a sudden urge to bite the knobby bone - later. Damon wouldn’t argue. Damon’s head tipped back and he rocked his hips as with one, two, three quick strokes he came, hard, shuddering as his cum spattered on the hardwood floor of the dressing room, his eyes never leaving Graham’s face. “Better?” “Much, ta, luv.” Damon kissed him, quick and hard. They tidied their clothes and Damon grabbed some tissue to hastily wipe the evidence off the floor, Graham giggling, completely relaxed now. Damon was magic. The show could go on. 

The hotel room, shortly after the show: Graham almost pushed Damon into the room, slammed the door and locked it. They had foregone the usual after party, Graham protesting he had a headache, Damon saying he was tired and nursing a headache of his own. Lies. 

Within seconds they were writhing on the sheets, the scratchy counterpane ending up on the floor. Graham was panting as he struggled with his, then Damon’s clothes, sitting up and tugging at shirts and pants. Damon laughed as a trouser leg got stuck on his ankle. “I LOVE when you’re this randy, pet. I’ll have to dirty talk to you onstage more often.” Graham huffed and pushed him down on the bed, his hand sliding along Damon’s calf and raising his foot up in the air...he licked and then bit the slender ankle that had tempted him earlier. “Shit! That hurt, Gra!” A pause. Their eyes met and Damon smiled, purring out: “Naughty Graham. Do it again.” He mewled as Graham dealt out more bites to the tender inside of his thigh, the dip of his groin, his ribcage, his earlobe. “Jesus! Slow down or you’ll make me cum... ummm I like that.” Their mouths met, biting and sucking, then Graham dove lower and nibbled at Damon’s nipples, Damon arching and moaning against him, his hands in Graham’s hair. He pulled Graham up, wanting to feast on his mouth a little more, until they both had to come up for air. “Grem, look.” He’d glanced to the side of the bed and noticed the full length dressing mirror, their bodies prettily reflected in it. “Vain bastard,” Graham teased. Damon stretched up, breathed into his ear and spoke slowly. “I’ve always wanted to watch as you fuck your cock into me. Inch by inch. Then take me apart, Graham. Fuck me into the bed.” He grinned devilishly.

“Chrisssttt….” Graham moaned, grabbing almost blindly for Damon’s duffel that had been tossed to the side of the bed, unzipping the pocket and scrabbling for the lube he knew was stowed there. “Get on all fours. Now.” They were both shaking in anticipation and lust. Graham slicked his cock and fingers, Damon already backing towards him, panting, watching their reflection avidly, groaning and circling his pretty bottom on the long fingers that quickly prepared him. “You love it, don’t you, Dames?” Graham panted, his other hand working his cock, knowing Damon was enjoying the view in the mirror. “C’mon, Grem!” He groaned deeply as the fingers were withdrawn and Graham teased, dipping just the swollen head of his cock inside, pulling out again, finding he was getting as much out of the show as Damon was. 

Graham leaned over him and turned his head for another long kiss before getting back on his knees, slowly, ever so slowly, pushing himself into Damon’s willing flesh. “Oh god, oh god that’s beautiful,” Damon whispered, his eyes wide. “Look at you disappear into me, I can feel every inch of you, oh my god…. As deep as you can, my darling.” He arched his back, grinding himself against Graham’s groin. Graham put both hands on his waist, squeezing, his thumbs nestled into the luscious dimples on Damon’s lower back, before pulling out and sliding deep again. His head swam with the heat and closeness and the overwhelming sensation of being inside such beauty, inside this boy that he’d loved and craved for so long. My Damon, he thought, thrusting slowly, probably too slowly for the whimpering boy whose slender body met his every move. Graham let his hands roam up Damon’s back and stroke his shoulder blades, then slid one under to the round of his belly, pressing, wanting to keep him as close as possible. Damon turned his flushed face to gaze at Graham, foregoing the mirror, and gasped, “My Graham.” And he smiled, a completely open, blissful smile. 

Graham felt drowned in tenderness. He steadied himself with one hand on Damon’s hip and wrapped the other around Damon’s swollen cock, teasing and stroking. “Cum for me, Dames,” he gasped, leaning over and pressing kisses into Damon’s neck, then biting the slender shoulder, watching in the mirror as Damon gritted his teeth in pain and pleasure and then cried out, spurting into Graham’s hand and over the bed. “Jesus, don’t stop, Gra,” he panted, “I wanna watch you cum…” His thighs were shuddering as he rocked through the pangs of climax and Graham was stroking them softly, slowing his thrusts as he watched Damon’s body under his hands and in the mirror. Graham kissed softly where he’d bitten and leaned up to Damon’s ear. “Can I cum inside you, luv?” Damon tilted his head, seeking a kiss, succeeding. “It’s your face I want to see...I love your cock inside me...wish you could fuck me forever....” he moaned. “Look how beautiful you are, look, Grem!” And he was, hips moving gracefully, head back and biting his lip as he swivelled and thrust deeper, close now, then gasping Damon’s name as the throbbing burning wave took him over and he came. Damon slumped into the bed and brought one arm up and over Graham’s back, stroking gently as he held him in place. “Stay, please stay inside me, just for a little while,” he whispered. Graham kissed the nape of his neck and his shoulderblades. “Of course, Dames.” He smiled and nuzzled into his boy, the two of them shifting onto their sides, wrapped as close as they could be before slipping into sleep.

Tokyo, Japan, February 1997 You smiled at me it was the end

Graham left the note on the writing desk in the living area of the suite, glancing towards the bedroom as he quietly opened the door. Jet lag was wreaking havoc with Damon’s sleep and he was completely unconscious under the soft duvet. “Back before long, shopping with Alex, see you soon, xxoo” and he’d drawn, on an affectionate whim, a Lennonesque doodle of the two of them, his glasses mirroring John’s own in his caricatures, Damon’s necklace under his smile. 

Alex lounged against the wall in the hallway a few doors down and he grinned as he caught sight of his friend. “How’s Sleeping Beauty?” Graham ducked his head, blushed and giggled. Alex put a long arm around Graham’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Gra, we’re all pleased that you’re happy again. That both of you are. I’m jealous as fuck, I’ll have you know, though.” He was smiling but Graham could see pain in the dark eyes and paused to stretch upward and press a kiss on Alex’s cheek. “Thank you, Alex…” He didn’t have to say it. Alex knew. It had always been complicated, this band love of theirs. Alex often thought that Blur existed only because three lesser beings fell in love with Graham Coxon and wanted to keep him close by. But Damon and Graham predated the band...a truth that Alex could not change. Never mind, he had Graham’s undivided attention for a few hours, to explore the shops near the hotel.

An hour later, after making their way through innumerable tiny shops full of souvenirs and strange gummy candies, Graham’s keen eyes spotted a shade of green that he couldn’t live without. It was in a yukata kimono shop, the more casual style of the traditional outfit, a mossy green patterned with cherry tree branches and blossoms. He gently stroked the heavy silk. Alex smiled as he watched his friend, and nodded. “It’s beautiful, Gra.” In his head: and you’ll look beautiful in it… 

In the hotel room, Damon’s eyes filled with tears even as he chuckled at the note he’d found. I almost lost you, my precious boy. Thank god you forgave me. He brushed the tears away and filled a cup with green tea. God forbid I’m ever that stupid again. He shifted restlessly in the chair and sipped at the tea. Finally getting a decent sleep had left him full of energy. He considered getting his trainers on for a jog when he heard the door opening and Graham calling goodbye to Alex down the hall. 

He could tell from Graham’s grin and flushed cheeks that the shopping expedition had been successful. ‘Did you bring me back some treasures?” he teased, smiling widely as Graham bent to quickly kiss him on the way by. “Just wait and see. No peeking.” He took the package tucked under his arm into the bathroom with him and shut the door. A good shopping trip always left him buzzing with excitement and he was anxious to show Damon his find. He unwrapped the paper and felt a shiver of pleasure run through him at the feel of the silk under his fingers. He’d tried the robe on quickly over his t-shirt and jeans at the shop but now...hmmmm….now it was too tempting. He stripped off, briefly assessed and approved of his trim body in the mirror, then sighed with pleasure as he pulled the luxurious fabric over his bare skin. Graham studied his reflection. Yes. Oh yes. He set his glasses on the counter. He smoothed his eyebrows and bit at his lips, and opened the door. 

It was unconscious, the way he posed, really. Hands demurely folded over his groin, head ducked and eyelashes fluttering over the big brown eyes, the shyest of smiles. The novel newness of the robe brought it out in him, a touch of vanity. Graham knew it showed off his innate gracefulness and the pretty delicacy that made him, truly, lovelier than the blond boy across the room who found himself suddenly unable to draw a breath.

A million thoughts flooded Damon’s head. My man. I love you. You are everything. Thank you. I want you GOD I want you. My pretty angel, my soft baby, my geisha…”my cherry blossom,” rasped out. Damon reddened, and grinned. Graham giggled and batted his eyelashes again. “You like it, then?” 

Damon’s voice, now found in full, was husky. “Let me show you how much I do.”


End file.
